


I've no choice but to follow that call

by morganstern



Category: Moon Over Bourbon Street - Sting (song)
Genre: Gen, Stalking, Vampires, non-sexual voyeurism, see end notes for more warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganstern/pseuds/morganstern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She walks every day through the streets of New Orleans<br/>She's innocent and young, from a family of means<br/>I have stood many times outside her window at night<br/>To struggle with my instinct in the pale moonlight</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've no choice but to follow that call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Teaotter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaotter/gifts).



"Let me get this straight," she said. "You're an immortal vampire who's been alive for centuries, and you spend your time watching me through my bedroom window?"

"A century and a half, actually," he muttered, avoiding her eyes from where he was chained to the wall.

He’d been careless - hungry, cold and alone, gazing in at the warmth of her human existence with the desperation of a starving man. She’d managed to take him by surprise with the electric device she called a taser _(“One more move and you’ll be swallowing 50,000 Volts again, asshole!”)_.

"Ah, okay," she said with exaggerated patience. "That totally makes spying on me less creepy."

"I wasn't spying-" he began, indignant. This was hardly like the espionage work he’d done back during the wars; nothing like the blood, death and betrayal he’d seen in the long nights of European winters. She raised her eyebrows at him and he decided not to argue the point.

He turned his head sideways to look at the restraints holding his wrist to the radiator. They were made of solid-looking metal with an intricate locking mechanism. To his eyes, they appeared identical to those used by this day’s law enforcement. 

“Why do you keep handcuffs in your home?” he asked curiously. From the details he’d managed to glean about her life by watching her at night, she was a student of some kind, not someone he’d expect to be involved in detaining criminals. However, the question only seemed to antagonize her further.

“That is exactly _none of your business_ ,” she snapped. She dusted off her knees and stood up. “Well, this has been entertaining,” she said. “You are either a crazy person, or a pervert who’s an very creative liar. Either way, you can explain the rest of it to the police.”

“No, wait!” he said, struggling against the cuffs binding him. She raised her taser again, and he subsided. He might be stronger than a human, but the sensation of that thing had been very unpleasant. “Please, let me explain-” he started to say, but with one last wary glance, she’d already left the room. Presumably she was on her way to retrieve her mobile device, which meant he had only a few seconds to act before she summoned the police and returned.

Damnation.

With his free hand, he ripped the metal cuff from his wrist and left its twisted remains dangling from the radiator. He could already hear the sound of her returning footsteps. Swallowing his bitter disappointment, he vanished out the door and into the night.

* * *

“So I think we got off on the wrong foot the other night,” she said.

He’d tried to make himself stay away, but his hunger and uncertainty drove him back the next night. How badly had he frightened her? Had she called the police after he’d fled? Was there anything he could say to her to convince her not to be terrified of him?

None of his thoughts that day had prepared him for the big hand-written sign on her back door that read _VAMPIRE PLEASE COME IN_.

“Yes, I agree,” he said cautiously from a seat at her small dining room table.

“You have to admit, your story sounds completely crazy. But I don’t know of anyone human who can do this in less than a minute with no tools.” She held up the handcuffs he’d extricated himself from the night before. One of the cuffs had been ripped open, distorted entirely out of shape. He could see the imprints his fingers had left in the metal.

“My apologies,” he said. “I would be happy to buy you a new pair-”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she said. “But I’d be curious to know more about vampires. You started telling me last night that you’re immortal?”

He felt surprised and gratified that her reaction was curiosity rather than horror. Additionally, he was relieved that she seemed willing to overlook the fact that he’d been intruding on her privacy. “Yes, we don’t age. We heal from injuries almost instantly, so it requires a significant act of violence to kill us - such as a stake through the heart, or beheading.”

“Instant healing.” She looked eager. “Could you show me?”

Well, that was easy enough. He pulled his pen knife out of his pocket, and cut a shallow gash in his left palm. It healed within seconds, leaving just a smear of blood on his unbroken skin. She stared at it, transfixed, as he wiped his hand clean with his handkerchief.

“Rapid cellular regeneration,” she murmured to herself, eyes alight. “Remarkable. What other myths are true?” she asked. “Garlic? Silver? Holy water?”

He held in a scornful snort. “Garlic is merely distasteful to us because of the smell. Our senses are stronger than those of humans. Holy water is no different to us than ordinary water. Silver isn’t fatal to us, though it does have an immobilizing effect.”

“Interesting,” she said. She had rather a few more questions that he tried to answer to the best of his knowledge. The truth was, vampires were a solitary and untrusting lot on the whole, and he had been turned a relatively short time ago. He feared that his answers must be disappointing to her, but if they were she was kind enough not to show it.

“Oh, that reminds me,” she said after some time had passed, rising to her feet. “I got you some light refreshment earlier today.” She ducked into the kitchen, and returned a few moments later with a tall glass and a carafe filled with a thick red liquid.

“Cow blood,” she said before he could ask, and poured him a glass. “It was awkward as hell to buy, so I hope you can drink it. Not too popular with the average customer, for some reason.”

She watched with intent eyes as he raised the glass to his mouth and took a sip. It was indeed cow blood, not quite fresh. He remembered the taste well from the days before transfusions and refrigerators, when human blood was hard to purchase and impossible to store. It was bitter and astringent on his tongue, but he made himself swallow.

“We can drink animal blood,” he said, putting the glass down again. With effort, he managed not to grimace at the taste. She had gone to the effort of obtaining it for him, and he didn’t want to offend her. “However, we can’t survive on it for very long. It doesn’t have the same nourishing properties as human blood does.” Despite his words, he drank some more to be polite.

She looked fascinated. “Is that because of the chemical composition, or are there other factors involved?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.” In the years after he was turned, he’d searched everywhere to find a cure, but eventually he’d despaired of ever becoming human again. At one time he’d hoped that modern science would hold the key to his salvation, but as the years passed, the sciences only grew further away from the occult, and creatures like him and his kind were pushed further into the shadows. Modern chemistry was not something he’d attempted to apply to his situation.

He felt an odd tickling feeling in his throat, and drank another mouthful of blood to suppress his urge to cough. “What is it you do?” he asked, aware that he’d talked too much about himself for good manners.

She smiled and gave a small shrug. “Oh, I work in medical research. Nothing too interesting.”

The tickling, itching sensation had spread, and this time he couldn’t suppress a cough.

“Did it go down the wrong way?” she asked, all concern, and pushed the glass closer towards him. “Here, have some more.”

* * *

He woke in darkness, restrained again, this time by bonds that he lacked the strength to break. A familiar voice echoed down faintly from above, holding a conversation with someone on the other end of a telephone.

“Yeah, it was the silver nitrate that knocked him out. Didn’t even taste it. I’ve run some initial tests on his blood already; got some amazing results. Forwarding them to you now." A pause. “No, he’s secured downstairs. Trust me, he’s going to be here for a while.”

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Non-consensual poisoning/drug use, kidnapping and imprisonment, forced medical experimentation.


End file.
